


Let me woo you by throwing turtle shells at your head

by afra_schatz



Series: The best consolation if not the only remedy [1]
Category: Merlin (BBC), RPS
Genre: Humor, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afra_schatz/pseuds/afra_schatz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uni AU in which Colin is a physics undergrad and technically Bradley is studying engineering but spends most of his (considerable) brainpower on building robots, playing Mario Kart, oh and lusting after Colin. – This is a prequel to <a href="http://afra-schatz.livejournal.com/234398.html">“The best consolation if not the only remedy”</a> but it easily can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me woo you by throwing turtle shells at your head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giselleslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/gifts).



All Bradley ever really wanted to do in his life was build robots. Well, except for the time when he wanted to be a pirate but that was when he was fifteen and everybody goes through that phase, right? So of course he is studying engineering. It’s spectacularly awesome, and _he’s_ spectacularly awesome at it. 

Therefore it’s still a bit of a mystery to him how he ended up in Chemistry 101 on Wednesday mornings. The class turned out to be less of a mad scientist experience than Bradley expected. However, it’s the only class he has with Colin. Bradley is not ditching it even though he has no idea why _Colin_ is taking this class either. 

Colin is a physicist with all his heart and he is also cool and odd in equal proportions. Bradley knows this even though he’s only met him two months ago. When he stumbled into the hall room they were going to be sharing Colin was standing on his bed and hanging up an ‘Edward Scissorhands’ poster right next to one of Albert Einstein. Now the prospect of waking up to some white haired bloke sticking out his tongue at him was a bit disconcerting but Bradley had to admit that Johnny Depp _is_ pretty brilliant. Then Colin turned around and nodded at Bradley’s Arsenal flag over his bed and said ‘Great match last weekend’. Bradley was instantly sure he’d get along splendidly with his slightly weird looking live-in goth physicist.

Anyway, chemistry is as useless to Colin as it is to Bradley. Also, the class starts at nine and Colin _hates_ early mornings. Every day he seems personally offended by sunrise and last week Bradley caught him sleeping with ear plugs so he didn’t have to hear his own alarm clock.

As if to prove Bradley’s point, Colin yawns a yawn so huge that it could swallow the entire lab.

“I have no idea what you’re doing here,” says Bradley with a shake of his head.

Colin yawns again, then he looks at Bradley like Bradley has just said something incredibly stupid. Like _everyone_ and their uncle knew why Colin is taking Chemistry 101.

“What are _you_ doing?” he asks back.

Bradley looks down at the two empty test-tubes he is holding in his gloved hands and has absolutely no idea what they are for. He looks at the test-tubes, then he looks at the assorted chemicals on the table in front of him. Then he looks at Professor Boyd at the other end of the room who is busy talking gibberish to two redheads. Then he looks out the window and thinks damn, there’s a sunny autumn morning he’s missing right now. Then he looks at Colin on the other side of their table. 

“I have no idea,” he concludes.

“That seems to happen rather a lot with you.”

“So you noticed that, too.”

Colin shrugs and starts mixing chemicals which looks totally random to Bradley. “To be honest, I’m having you under surveillance 24/7. You’re my secret biology project.”

Bradley grins and tilts his head. “I thought you were a physicist.”

“With a sideline in behaviourism.”

“Which effectively makes me your lab rat? How am I doing so far?”

Colin looks up from his work and regards him with an intensity that, given the circumstances, is probably supposed to be scrutinizing. 

“About average, I guess. But then, normal rats don’t have thumbs which puts them at a disadvantage.”

“It’s not my fault,” says Bradley and puts the test-tubes down. One of them rolls down the table, falls and shatters on the stone floor. Everyone in the class automatically looks at him.

“Good thing that there wasn’t acid in it already,” Colin stage-whispers.

“Acid?”

“You really haven’t been listening when Professor Boyd gave us the instructions,” Colin observes and discreetly kicks the remains from the test-tube under the table.

“It’s not my fault. It’s that Scottish accent of his. I only understand about 10% of what he’s saying.”

Colin arches an eyebrow. 

“Seriously,” says Bradley, “I don’t know how you do it. It’s probably because you’re Irish. That gives you an unfair advantage, you know.”

“Geography isn’t your strong suit either, is it? There is a difference between Ireland and Scotland, you know. I explained it to you.”

“In Scotland leprechauns wear kilts?”

Colin gives him a look that reminds Bradley vaguely of the one his kindergarten teacher used to give him whenever he tried to eat a Lego. Then however, from one second to the other, Colin is grinning from ear to ear and he chuckle-snorts. 

Bradley thinks that it’s nothing short of awesome to be honest. He’s been hanging out with Colin a lot since the semester started, it’s like they’ve known each other since kindergarten and not just for a few months. And by now he knows that people tend to be thrown by Colin’s ability to shift back and forth between looking like someone has just run over his pet kitten and grinning like a lunatic. It confuses the hell out of Bradley, too, most of the times. 

Being with Colin makes him feel like one of those really slow kids that only starts laughing at a joke five minutes after everyone else. He couldn’t care less, he still laughs his ass off regularly. And while he has to sit down and is fighting a losing battle against hysteria, Colin looks at him like he’s thinking _’You’re a crazy person. I appreciate that.’_. 

Bradley pays him back by regularly saving him from boring-to-death conversations at hall parties where he sweeps in and either messes Colin’s hair up or pulls him away which both puts an end to smalltalk. A benefit is that he then has Colin all for himself, at least for the next five minutes until some inconsiderate person dares to interrupt their important conversation about, say, the probability of someone falling out of one of the windows before midnight.

Professor Boyd walks by and he pointedly looks at the floor and the shattered remains of Bradley’s test tube. Then at Bradley. 

Bradley shakes himself out of his contemplations and smiles his most winning smile which isn’t getting him anywhere. He goes to fetch the broom. When he has finished cleaning up, the chemicals on Colin’s side of the table have started switching colours and producing fumes. Bradley is contented to stand aside and let Colin continue on his own. Professor Boyd comes round again and once more seems way more interested in Bradley than in Colin’s efforts.

“A question presents itself, Mr. James,” he singsongs. Actually, it’s just his normal voice but to Bradley Scottish people always sound like they are slightly sloshed and about to burst into song.

“Yes, I am actually a student here,” Bradley says. Professor Boyd smiles because Bradley has this effect on people. So he grins broadly and adds, “Though I know what you’re getting at. I’d make a great janitor, too, no doubt.”

“I think you should reconsider your priorities,” says Professor Boyd dryly but not without humour. Then he nods approvingly at whatever the hell Colin is doing and toddles off again.

Colin says, “So professional janitorism is out of the question, duly noted. Since chemistry obviously isn’t your vocation either –“

“Hey, I have feelings, you know. It’s not my fault that we are taught in a foreign language.”

“You never do your homework either.”

Bradley grins, and gives in with a shrug. “I have more important things to do.”

“What exactly would that be?”

“Easy,” Bradley says without having to think about it. His tone of voice obviously bears enough conviction for Colin to look up from his fuming test-tubes. “Find myself a huge firm that is willing to finance my pet project.” Pause for dramatic effect. “I’m gonna build a real life Terminator.”

Colin considers that for a moment, then he asks, “Like Arnold or like that blond girl from the third movie?”

“I was thinking of designing it after myself actually. It’s a good thing I’m fit.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not vain.”

“If you ask nicely I’ll do one of you as well. You’ll have to model for it though.”

Colin is silent for a moment, like he is considering that. Then he tilts his head.

“So what you’re saying is you want to build a robot that will kill most of the human race? And in order to achieve that I’m supposed to get naked for you? – That is the worst chat up line of all times.”

Bradley gawps then shakes his head. Here he was innocently talking about man-hunting mechanics and suddenly he’s acing harassment in the workplace? How did that happen? 

He’s still shaking his head when Colin grins at him and elbows him in the ribs. 

“Just kidding. – It’s quite a good one actually.”

“I wasn’t -!”

“Kidding, kidding.”

Before Bradley can reply Colin has turned to Professor Boyd, asking him something about well, chemistry probably. Bradley isn’t listening because he thinks there was something in Colin’s eyes, right before he turned around. Something Bradley hasn’t got a word for. Also Colin is wearing goggles, it’s hard to tell. Either way, Bradley feels like an idiot. Not that this is a particularly new feeling to him, it’s just that he’s never minded as much as he does now.

When Professor Boyd walks on and Colin turns back to him, Bradley returns the light nudge in the ribs. It’s supposed to be amicable and it’s supposed to ease the tension. For a moment Bradley thinks that he’s failing smashingly at both. But then Colin flashes him a quick grin before he starts mixing some more chemicals.

“So, what about you?” Bradley asks because someone has to say something and also he really wants to know. “What’s your big goal in life?”

Colin shrugs. “Up until now I was thinking academic acclaim and a Nobel Prize. But world domination sounds cooler, I give you that.”

Bradley relaxes and leans his hip against their table. His lab coat brushes against some tubes that sway dangerously.

“If your Nobel Prize gig falls through, you can be my sidekick if you want. You can be the Pinky to my Brain.”

Colin makes a small humming sound, like he’s tempted but not completely convinced. 

“That is very generous of you. But given your performance today I’m not sure whether it is such a great idea to cast you as the brains of this operation.”

“Fine, fine,” Bradley concedes easily. “You’re it. I don’t care who leads as long as we dance.”

Colin drops something into the test-tube over the Bunsen burner and it instantly produces an awful stink and bursts into flames. All the other students look their way and Professor Boyd comes rushing over. Colin takes half a step back and utters a little surprised hum. He looks at Bradley.

“And by ‘dance’ I take it you mean ‘take over the world’?” he asks like he hasn’t just set their table on fire.

Come to think of it, Bradley thinks, by ‘dance’ he actually _meant_ ‘dance’. While Professor Boyd hastily rushes off with the renegade test-tube, Bradley has this mental image in his head of himself and Colin in their hall room slow-dancing to ‘I just died in your arms tonight’. It makes him feel all warm and tingly and such for a moment. 

Then he realises that the sleeve of his lab coat is on fire. 

_Then_ (while shrugging off his coat and stamping on it) he realises that someone must’ve nicked his brain and replaced it with Ally McBeal’s. 

‘I just died in your arms tonight’?! 

What is _wrong_ with him?

Apparently starting uni has fucked with his brain a little, short-circuited some things. 

Once the whole being-scared-for-his-life moment is over though, Bradley is pretty confident that he’ll adjust.

One thing that helps is that he is studying in his hometown which is London, the greatest city that ever was or will be. He meets tons of new people – Colin is the first one that comes to mind and maybe also the second one but that’s because he is not only Bradley’s roommate but also a really cool guy when he isn’t trying to set Bradley on fire. But Bradley has sworn to himself that he wouldn’t be one of those guys who ditches all his old mates just because there are new ones available for the price of cheap beer.

So, all through autumn he is pretty much fully booked. All the socializing makes studying a bit difficult. But he manages and he prides himself on always making time for the really important things. Like get hammered with his footie mates. Play video games with Colin till four in the morning. Walk Angel home.

Bradley started walking Angel home when they were in primary school and he was a little bit in love with her. He’s grown out of that now but the accompanying thing is still on. Angel says that she can cross the street on her own – their halls are within spitting distance of each other – but Bradley finds knightly gallantness a hard habit to break. He usually makes her carry his books so she doesn’t have to feel like she owes him. 

One late November afternoon for once there are no books and there really is nothing to carry but Angel’s lady bird umbrella against the drizzle. If anybody can make that thing look manly, then it’s Bradley.

“Could you do me a favour?” Angel asks and hooks her arm through his so they’ll both fit under the umbrella.

She asks this now, about two hundred feet from her doorstep after they’ve spent the entire afternoon together. He has spent a larger part of it telling her in detail about that incident with the bike and the blindfold last week which was all Colin’s fault and nearly got them arrested. But there were gaps in the conversation where he was eating his burger where _she_ could’ve said something. So when she asks, of course Bradley is instantly suspicious.

“I don’t know. If you have to ask with that honey-sweet voice it’s clearly something I don’t want to do. But then I can’t resist you and I am way too good a person anyway.” He sidesteps a puddle on the sidewalk. “So, yeah, I guess.”

Angel cuddles a little closer to him, like a big cat with curly hair and an ulterior motive. “Could you tell Santiago that he needs to tone down the drama? Just in case it comes up?”

Bradley snorts and pulls her out of the way of a particularly large puddle. “How would that come up when I talk to Santiago? Angel. We are blokes. We play footie together. It’s not like we sit down and talk about our feelings.”

Angel looks up at him sceptically while they halt at a stoplight. “What _do_ you do in the locker rooms then?”

“Did you break up with him again?” asks Bradley instead of answering and rolls his eyes ostentatiously. The Coulby-Cabrera relationship is about as dramatic as Buffy’s and Angel’s, only that Santiago isn’t a three-hundred year old vampire and still a giant diva. And Bradley says that as his mate.

“I think I did,” Angel replies with obvious doubt in her voice as they start walking again.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, you know how it is with me and him. I break up with him and he thinks that means he just needs to woo me more.”

“To which you react by taking him back, so it is not entirely his fault.”

This time it’s Angel who rolls her eyes. “I am just worried that he will start singing serenades under my window and get me evicted. It gets dangerous when a relationship reaches the stage of an impromptu musical.”

“Does it really,” Bradley contemplates. He looks up at the ladybirds over his head and says thoughtfully, “Whenever Colin and I write songs there’s never any such danger. Well, aside from that one time when Colin ate the paper with the lyrics on them so I couldn’t make him perform them in public. He nearly choked. I was worried.”

He grinds to a halt because Angel let go and stopped walking. He turns back to her and finds her looking at him all strange. 

“What?” he asks. “He didn’t really choke, you know. And even if he did, I’d have saved him. We made a pact that we’d rescue each other if the world got conquered by Cybermen. But I guess other emergencies count as well.”

Angel still doesn’t say anything but stares at him like she’s willing him to read her mind and is incredibly disappointed that he is apparently failing royally at it.

“What?” asks Bradley again.

“You do know that we were just talking about my relationship with Santiago?” Angel asks.

“Yeah, so?”

“The comparison you drew just now –“

Bradley interrupts her before she finishes because he totally knows where she’s going with this. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t compare your whatever-it-is with Santiago to choking incidents of any kind. He is a bit over the top but that’s just rude. Sorry.” 

He steps closer to her again so that she is under the protection of the ladybirds once more. She looks at him and her mouth is slightly open. Probably she is shocked by the depth of Bradley’s self-reflection. But then she sighs quietly. 

“What?” asks Bradley for the third time.

“Nothing,” she sighs as she hooks her arm through his again. “So, would you talk to him for me?”

Of course Bradley will. Clearly no one is streetwiser than him when it comes to the roads of romance.

His conversation with Santiago a few days later goes as expected though. Santiago makes a lot of nonsensical gestures, calls Angel heartless and the love of his life and storms out, all in a timeframe of ten seconds. Santiago works under the assumption that he is starring in a Spanish soap opera.

However, Bradley hasn’t got time to be exasperated or even mildly amused for long. Because December happens to be the month in which fate decides to crap on his head.

Now, it’s Bradley’s first time living in a hall but he is pretty sure that tossing off to the thought of his roommate is not what he is supposed to be doing. He is also pretty certain that it’s not a good time to realize this in the middle of said wank with said roommate sleeping about five feet away from him.

Shit, is what Bradley thinks right the moment he comes. Well, no. In the moment when he shoots (and there is nothing he can do about it, it’s like his cock has a mind of its own) he thinks of Colin and Colin’s lips and how Colin licked strawberry jam off them yesterday and how amazing they would feel wrapped around his – Ahem. That’s the point where he comes. He deducts that it wasn’t the thought of jam that makes him have to bite down on his hand to muffle a shout.

So, shit.

Quietly Bradley wipes himself off with a paper towel then shifts and buries his face in his pillow in a half-hearted attempt to smother himself. When that doesn’t work out for him, he shifts to his side and looks over to Colin’s side of the room. He’s not supposed to wank thinking about Colin. It doesn’t matter how hilariously funny he is and it doesn’t matter that his lips part just so when he’s sleeping. It certainly shouldn’t have any effect on Bradley that Colin’s hair looks like a total mess right now. Especially not when his hair is all Bradley can see of him because Colin drags his coverings up to his hairline the moment dawn breaks. None of this should be of any interest to Bradley. But apparently some parts of him vehemently disagree and want nothing more than to lift those covers and crawl under the blanket with Colin and have Colin say ‘Morning, Bradley’ in that stupidly sexy Irish accent of his.

Of course Bradley doesn’t. It might be his first time living in a hall and he’s apparently rubbish at it, but even he knows that you don’t snuggle up to other blokes without explicit invitation. And possibly not even then. Especially not when they hate mornings and mutter curses in the general direction of the alarm clock that just went off. It’s December 7th, 7.30 a.m. and Colin just called the alarm clock a fucking cockhole.

Bradley sits up and says, “It’s not voice controlled, Colin, I keep telling you that.”

Colin shifts under his blanket and his hair disappears from view as well. 

“It’s too fucking early. Go and be chipper somewhere else, you stupid Christmas elf.”

Bradley laughs at how snarky Colin can be even when he is still mostly asleep. Then he thinks that he’d really like Colin to growl other things at him and feels vaguely aroused again. After having tossed off just five minutes ago.

Oh, he is so fucked.

“I am fucked,” Bradley says dejectedly, a couple of days later. 

He’s standing in the middle of the locker room and the familiar smell of feet and mud surrounds him. Not even that can make that silly fluttery feeling in his belly go away and the worst thing is, he _knows_ it’s not a stomach bug. It’s their last match of the year and he is supposed to be looking forward to it. Could his cock have a worse timing? Bradley thinks not.

He says, a little louder, “Seriously, lads, I have a serious problem.”

Eoin, Santiago, Matt and Tom look at him with intensely little interest. Bradley thinks he should find that offensive but he is already maxed out on feeling sorry for himself. Still, mates by definition are supposed to care for you and not look at you with thinly veiled boredom when you clearly are in man-pain.

“Go to a doctor and get yourself some penicillin,” says Eoin after a moment and pulls his boxers down. Not that his boxers have anything to do with anything, Eoin just enjoys being naked in the locker room too much. 

Bradley frowns at him and so does Matt.

“It is a bit worrisome that the first thing you think of is an STD,” Tom points out.

Santiago looks back at Bradley and regards him for a moment. “It’s not an STD, is it?”

“No!” says Bradley and feels a little offended at the implication until he realizes that an STD would be so much easier. “It’s worse.”

Suddenly his mates remind Bradley of a bunch of hyenas and he isn’t sure whether it was all that wise to bring it up. They sit down and regard him sort of scarily hungrily.

“Worse than gonorrhoea?” enquires Eoin.

“Now what could that be?” wonders Tom.

“Talk to us, mate,” says Matt. 

“We’re here for you,” says Santiago. 

“We _want_ to hear about your problems,” says Eoin. 

Bradley sighs and forlornly stares at the footie shoe in his hand. The part of his brain he isn’t in control of any longer, the one that entertains itself by thinking up pictures of a naked Colin in cheap porn film scenarios, that part is expanding with the speed of a giant space blob. 

Bradley _knows_ he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d be the worst spy in history of spies, he’s that bad with secrets. If he doesn’t share it with his mates now there is a good chance that he’ll stand in the middle of the footie field and shout it on the top of his lungs. That would be embarrassing. His mates would make fun of him publicly instead of just in the privacy of the locker room.

So he takes a deep breath and says, “You know I have this roommate, Colin, right? Err. So Colin. I think I’ve developed a –“ 

There he stops again. Because really what _does_ he have? 

His mates look at him with the slightly puzzled interest with which you regard a broken record.

“Err, what I mean is I am having –“ 

A problem? A thing? 

“These err you could say certain –“ 

Thoughts? Urges? Feelings? 

“You know, for him.” 

For a second Santiago, Tom, Matt and Eoin stare at him silently, only then they react, all at the same time.

“Eew.”

“Huh.”

“Duh.”

“Very funny, Brads.” 

Eoin laughs and Bradley is too confused by his own revelation to hit him over the head. Getting it off his chest doesn’t, contrary to popular belief, feel good. He feels like an idiot. Eoin is still laughing, Matt is elbowing Eoin in the ribs and Santiago and Tom look like a nuclear explosion has just happened in their front yard. 

Bradley puts his footie shoe down decisively.

“You know what? The locker room is not the place to have this discussion. In fact, no place is the place to have this discussion. Ever. Forget I said anything. I don’t have... anything for anybody. Certainly not for Colin. I don’t even know who that is. Colin who?”

Everyone stops what they have been doing before in favour of once again staring at Bradley. Bradley should never become an actor. He’s a rubbish liar. 

“You were serious?” asks Eoin, utter astonishment as well as mild amusement in his question.

They are all silent for a moment and it’s seriously awkward. 

Then Matt says, “Well, this is awkward.”

And Tom says, “It’s Eoin’s fault.” 

Bradley looks up in surprise because clearly it’s _his_ fault and Tom is just confusing their names again. That normally only happens when he’s drunk.

“Wait what?” says Eoin as he flicks his hair out of his face and stares at Tom in bewilderment.

“You don’t laugh at a mate’s woes, mate,” says Tom. 

“Not even when they are disturbing gay wanking fantasies?” asks Santiago.

“I didn’t _say_ anything about wanking!” Bradley whines and wonders since when Santiago can read minds. It’s extremely disconcerting.

Matt pats Bradley’s back soothingly and Tom says, “Very sensitive, Santiago. And in no way homophobic.”

“Homo- excuse me?” protests Santiago. “Brads, call me up any time and I’ll wingman you. I’ll get you laid by the biggest gayest bear in town. Homophobic, my arse, hah.”

“He doesn’t want to get laid by a gay bear,” Eoin says slowly, frowning like he is just now sussing out the solution to a complex murder mystery. “He wants to bang his roommate. Right?”

Bradley opens his mouth, then closes it again. What is happening here?

“Spot on,” says Matt with two thumbs up. 

Tom squeezes Bradley’s shoulders and says in a voice so parental that it frightens Bradley, “You should give him an advance warning though, before you actually do it.”

“It’s not rape if you yell ‘surprise!’ first,” says Eoin like this was actually useful advice.

“I think it is,” says Tom slowly.

“I’ve never heard so many offensive things in my _life_ ,” says Bradley and is of course completely ignored.

Eoin finally pulls on his footie shorts in a sort of decidedly important manner.

“Can we go back to the part where Bradley wants to molest _Colin_?”

“I do _not_ want to –!”

Santiago nods gravely. “It’s not even clear to me whether he is an actual bloke or a character from ‘Nightmare before Christmas’. How is that attractive?”

He looks completely serious while Eoin is laughing again. 

“Exactly. Is that a fetish thing, Bradley?”

“Hey!” protest Bradley.

“Well –,” starts Matt.

“At least he’s not a midget,” cuts in Tom and pointedly looks at Eoin. 

Eoin gawps. “Smartarsery? Coming from Andre the Giant?”

Tom shrugs and gets up. “I got a lot of free time. Must be because I don’t have a pot of gold to guard.”

Eoin launches himself at Tom. Tom tries to make Eoin eat his own hair. Santiago observes with slightly detached curiosity. Matt takes pictures with his phone camera. 

And honestly, Bradley sort of appreciates it and not just because Tom sitting on Eoin is always a treat. His mates, he reflects as he finishes dressing while Eoin turns blueish, are seriously aces at laughing in the face of awkwardness until it is ashamed of itself and goes to hide in a corner. His friends also seem to accept him no matter what problems he has. 

Problem is that it doesn’t actually _help_ Bradley with his problems.

At all.

So, after his mates proved their absolute uselessness Bradley comes up with a different plan around New Year’s Eve. After all, he is a genius when it comes to robot building and he doesn’t see why his skills shouldn’t extend to dealing with this... thing he, or rather his cock, has for his roommate.

Whenever a robot is faulty you have two options: a. you disassemble it completely and put it back together again or b. you observe it closely, figure out where the glitch is and then you fix it. 

Normally, Bradley prefers plan A. Mostly because it’s huge fun to dissect a robot. While he’s at it he normally adds a few parts and ends up with an even more awesome specimen than before. He is aware that when dealing with human beings the whole dissecting part isn’t very appropriate unless you are a deranged serial killer which Bradley is not. Also, while in his opinion a robot always can do with more power or, for that matter, arms, he supposes the same doesn’t apply to Colin. In fact, Colin is pretty alright as he is. Absolutely no need for additional body parts.

On one of the first mornings after Christmas break Bradley makes the slight mistake of telling Colin that when Colin happens to come out of the shower. Okay, Bradley has this slight problem with oversharing his thoughts since... well, since he could speak. But if Colin doesn’t want his roommate to tell him that he doesn’t need an extra head or a retractable chainsaw in his arm then he shouldn’t come into the room in just a towel. Colin is still damp from the shower, and he is grasping his washed out pinkish towel with one hand while the other in vain tries to brush strands of wet hair out of his eyes. Bradley’s brain just short-circuits and it’s not his fault.

Accidental brain damage is counterproductive to Bradley’s goal, which is ‘figure out the glitch so you don’t toss off to pictures of Colin any longer’. Coming to think of it, as is visual material of an all but naked Colin. But that only occurs to Bradley late that night when they are already in bed. When he starts wanking and suddenly finds himself in a steamy shower room with Colin. Minus the towel.

To avoid a repetition of this less than helpful incident he just stays in bed until Colin is not only back from his morning shower but also dressed halfway appropriately. It’s solely in order to make sure the right amount of clothing is attached to Colin that Bradley peaks out from under his bedding. It is that way that he sees Colin completely naked for the first time. He would curse his bad luck and he would be slightly ashamed of his less than professional plan execution. But he is already busy staring at Colin’s naked bum and his thighs while Colin searches for a fresh pair of boxers. Clean clothes are notoriously elusive in their room – his total lack of orderliness was actually one of the first things that has drawn Bradley to Colin from day one – so it takes a bit until Colin finds some. Bradley can’t say that he finds that particularly horrible.

Apart from his accidental stalkerism (Stalkering? Stalkeritude?) in January and some a little less accidental repetitions in February, executing the observational phase of plan B is in operation. For the good of science – or rather the ongoing communicational difficulties with his penis – Bradley spends practically all of his time with Colin. 

Since Colin is already done dressing when Bradley gets up he appoints himself in charge of Bradley’s wardrobe. For someone whose outfits have a colour range from black over black to black (the occasional dark grey being heavily frowned upon by the rest of the clothes) Colin has a surprising fondness for bright colours. Bradley ends up in, say, his rattiest pair of jeans, a screamingly red t-shirt with a cartoon monkey printed onto it and his frog green sneakers. Even he has his doubts about this outfit but Colin is grinning so broadly that suddenly he doesn’t mind walking around dressed like a crazy homeless person. 

They have breakfast together in the hall’s kitchen. Bradley’s corn flakes get mushy while he watches Colin inhale an armada of toast like he hasn’t been fed for a month. Bradley is also pretty certain that Colin is deliberately messy with the honey and jam just so he can lick it off his fingers afterwards. He is also pretty certain that most mornings Colin stole the toast he then devours. They read the newspaper together and it doesn’t matter that the only paper you can find in their hall is at least four weeks old. There are pages missing and the crosswords are always already filled out. While Colin drinks his herbal tea and Bradley his milk, Bradley reads old articles out loud and Colin is responsible for the snide commentary. That usually ends with Bradley snorting milk through his nose and Colin smiling angelically at him.

When it’s not Wednesday – Chemistry 101 day – after breakfast they have to part ways to go to their respective classes. Bradley is not particularly fond of those parts of the day because studying, say, one-degree-of-freedom mechanical systems is all well and good but he’d rather get back to studying Colin. So, while his professors wax on about kinematics Bradley wonders what Colin is doing right now. Is he at this very moment, chewing on the back of the pencil he ‘borrowed’ from Bradley weeks back and never returned? Is he as bored as Bradley is? Is he looking forward to lunch? Is he wondering the same things about Bradley at the moment?

Over lunch Bradley subtly tries to get answers to these questions out of Colin. He never gets anywhere with it because he is not an interrogation pro and Colin just doesn’t answer questions like ‘Have you missed me? Colin?’. He just gives Bradley this look that Bradley can’t decipher which vexes him to no end. It is the only one out of all of Colin’s looks that he doesn’t have a translation for, which is a consolation, and it probably just means ‘Yeah, I did’ anyway. 

Colin’s silent meaningful-look-answers are solely restricted to that opening question. Aside from that Colin tells Bradley all about particles and magnetism and gravity as soon as Bradley asks. Bradley finds that that’s cool, especially when Colin is talking about the big bang which he finds way more interesting than his lunch. Bradley listens while he eats first his chicken wings and then Colin’s fries or whatever else it is their extremely health conscious cafeteria has on the menu that day. 

On some days, usually Thursdays, they are joined by some of their classmates. Bradley develops a strong dislike for Thursdays. Their classmates start hogging the conversation the moment they sit down and talk about boring science crap that no one in their right mind can be interested in, especially not during their lunch break. There’s talk of other things, too – football results, parties, hall casualties – and normally Bradley would be all over that. 

But whenever someone sits down at their table, Colin... well, he doesn’t so much as shut up entirely. He just returns to being that slightly reserved albeit dry humoured bystander bloke. He hasn’t been that guy around Bradley since their first week together and the incident with the vodka and the spider. 

Bradley likes a crowd as much as the next guy. Hell, Bradley is the poster boy for extrovertism (extroverty? Extroveritude?). But when Colin and he are having lunch, people that are not he or Colin just need to be elsewhere.

When they are alone Colin can talk a mile a minute and he is so enthusiastic that Bradley can’t help it and gets just as excited. Strangely enough, while Bradley could’ve sworn he hadn’t been paying attention to his own classes at all, he ends up telling Colin all about energy conversion systems, hydrostatic pressure variation and thermodynamics. Colin listens and eats Bradley’s jelly and Bradley finds his heart beating way faster than it should. It is odd because no one should find hydrostatic pressure variation _that_ exciting, as brilliant as it is. When Bradley has finished he complains that Colin ate his desert. Colin never apologises but there’s usually a Tesco pudding sitting on Bradley’s nightstand in the evening.

Then there is that bit of the day when they have afternoon classes. Bradley should be working on his drawings for his design class and not doodle gothic mini robots with structurally unsound but strangely appealing gangly limbs. 

He is probably also supposed to be writing some of the stuff down that his professor is lecturing about. He usually isn’t. Instead he spends a good deal of the afternoons contemplating what to do in the evening. – Go to the movies, Colin has wanted to see some arthouse horror flick for weeks. Let Colin talk him into playing Dungeons and Dragons with other creatures of the night (not that Colin has ever even tried that). Rescue Colin from a seriously boring physicists’ party. Find a casino and turn Colin into a Black Jack addict. Take Colin (and possibly Matt) clothes shopping in a store for normal people. Convince Colin to get shitfaced with Bradley’s mates.

More often than not they do nothing of the sort in the evening. Even though spring shuffles closer and the weather gets a little less shitty they still just stay in. They study, or Colin does, sitting on his bed surrounded by books, while Bradley works on one of his robots. They watch Buffy and Colin insists that Bradley is just looking for a father figure, so Bradley has no choice but crumble crisps all over Colin’s bed aka their telly-couch. They play Mario Kart until Bradley’s thumbs threaten to fall off and Colin and his stupid Donkey Kong own a cabinet full of gold trophies.

Other nights, Colin listens to music and hums along and Bradley secretly listens like it’s some concert at the Royal Albert Hall. They talk about completely random shit all evening, like jelly flavours, sorcery, Kevin Costner movies, tourist traps in Ireland, holes in their socks, Schrödinger’s cat and remedies for the plague. Colin lies on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head and Bradley sits leaning against his bedframe at the footend and arranges an army face off with his robots and Colin’s Tim Burton collectibles. When he says something that offends Colin’s delicate sensibilities regarding, say, Beetlejuice Colin lightly kicks the back of his head with his sock-clad foot.

No matter what they do, all evening Bradley can’t shake this strange feeling. It’s similar to the one you have when you stand in line for a roller-coaster ride. It puzzles Bradley a bit when he stumbles over that comparison and it fits. Because it’s not like they actually are on a fairground. And he knows that all along, is aware of it while he is standing in line so to speak. 

He knows it, even when Colin’s stupid jokes have once again reduced him to a trembling heap of laughter on the floor or when Colin’s drawn out contemplative hmmmm makes him feel all serene and wise. All along he _knows_ that there most definitely isn’t a roller-coaster at the end of the evening. So why does he feel like that? When it’s late Bradley crawls into his bed and Colin switches off the light. Bradley lies on his side and can just barely make out Colin’s bed on the other side of the room. 

Why does he feel this very very hushed, almost-too-quiet-to-notice sort of disappointment then? It just doesn’t make any sense.

That tiny detail aside, Bradley makes excellent progress in collecting data from January to March. 

The thing is, he has maybe forgotten why he started collecting it in the first place.

It’s around lunchtime on a Thursday in March when Bradley finds himself alone in the cafeteria with Emilia and Katie. Katie and Emilia are scary, especially together. Bradley should learn not to start talking to random people at parties, no matter how good looking they are. Katie and Emilia _say_ they are lit majors but Bradley is sure that’s just a cover for their espionage training. They are experts at wheedling and at scaring people and Bradley’s response to fright is babbling. Uncontrollably. About things that he probably should not be sharing with two spies in training, specialising in gossip and slander and general evilness. 

He comes back to the table with a fresh pudding and predictably Emilia and Katie are sitting there like a pair of those frighteningly mean judges on ‘America’s Next Top Model’. Bradley approaches with caution. Of course that doesn’t help one bit.

Emilia leans back in her chair, flicks her long hair over her shoulder and says, “So, Katie tells me, you’re completely off your rocker now?”

“Katie is the queen of lies,” Bradley says and sits down. “I was at the coronation.”

Katie snorts.“As what? The jester?”

“You’re so the opposite of hilarious.”

“Hey, I don’t want to steal your spotlight.”

Emilia makes a sound that clearly translates to ‘bored now’. 

“So, it’s not true that you’re stalking Colin?”

“I what?” Bradley gapes, then narrows his eyes and looks at Katie. “Katie, I said _studying_.”

Katie shrugs. “I translated.”

“Stalking, studying. Whatever. What I want to know is why.”

Katie looks at Emilia contemplatively. “Possibly even someone as slow as Bradley needs to suss it out eventually?”

“Suss what out?” asks Bradley.

“Oh, lookit,” coos Emilia, well, it’s as close to cooing as you’d buy it from her anyway. “He’s doing the open mouthed ‘buh?’ face!”

“Complete with the Bambi eyes,” Katie adds like she was standing in front of a particularly endearing baby animal.

“Ooh, lookit,” Bradley parrots, “they are doing the ‘evil bitchtwins from Attractive Breasts Town’ routine. What are you on about?”

Emilia grins. While Katie’s smile could, at least by someone who is very well meaning, be described as halfheartedly benevolent, Emilia’s grin is plain old shiteating. That pretty much sums the two of them up in a nutshell.

“Oh, you know,” Emilia says cryptically although Bradley clearly doesn’t. “So, what brought on your desire for ‘studying’?”

Before Bradley can answer Katie says to her, “Do you think he doesn’t trust us?”

“I don’t think he does,” says Emilia.

“And that from someone who calls Matt Smith his mate,” says Katie.

“Is that the guy who wears a frightening amount of tweed?”

“Yep, that’s him,” says Bradley.

Katie laughs. “I think it’s kind of sexy.”

“Because you’re insane,” says Bradley. “No offense.”

“Oh, none taken, especially when it’s coming from the Kingdom’s least observant stalker.”

“Oi, I am plenty observant,” Bradley protests and feels offended enough to put his pudding spoon down in favour of gesticulating wildly in front of Emilia’s and Katie’s faces. “I know in which order Colin puts his socks on in the morning, what his favourite Doctor Who episode is and how acting would’ve been his chosen profession if physics didn’t exist. I also know how he feels about the prime minister, bananas and people calling him emo. I know which tea he likes to drink when he’s sick, which Terry Pratchett audiobook he listens to before going to sleep and why he thinks that Becks and Posh should never have reproduced. I could write Colin’s biography in my sleep! I could direct the movie without having to read the script!”

He takes a deep breath, shuts his mouth and leans back in his chair. That will teach them to mock his observational skills. Seriously.

Katie and Emilia exchange a look.

Then Katie says, “Not very surprising. You spend every wake minute with him. The asleep ones as well.” 

“Which makes this business all the more pathetic,” says Emilia.

Bradley shakes his head and gives up. “Can you explain to me why every conversation we have ends up with me getting verbally abused? When is it your turn?”

Emilia arches her brows but says, “Good point. We _could_ talk about Katie’s night out with an entire football club.”

“Or we could talk about how Emilia is selling her underwear on eBay.”

It’s like watching two lionesses fight over the wounded impala by the waterside. It’s fascinating to witness, even if you happen to be the impala. Emilia and Katie look at each other and there is a battle going on that involves nothing but the twitching of heavily mascaraed eyes. Then they seem to reconsider, apparently the third World War is not worth the effort, and the entire Western hemisphere (i.e. the cafeteria, or at least Bradley) relaxes a little.

Emilia says to Katie, “He doesn’t want to tell us what brought up this ‘studying project’ of his and that’s cool. He’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t you mean ‘ _We’ll_ figure it out’?” Bradley asks.

Katie ignores that and says to Emilia, ”I think it’s quite sweet actually.”

“Sweet?” asks Bradley.

“I think it’s stupid,” says Emilia with a demonstrative eyeroll. “Look, Bradley, let me help you out and show you how it’s done.” 

With that she leans back in her chair and shortens the distance between herself and the next table that is occupied by two blokes. She waits till one of them, a dark haired guy who is rocking the young Aragorn look, catches her watching. Bradley is minimally reassured that the guy looks slightly scared in addition to surprised; it’s good to know that Bradley isn’t the only one she has this effect on. 

Emilia smiles broadly at young Strider and says with a tone that pre-emptively denies the existence of a refusal, “Hey, Ellis. You. Me. Dinner and a shag tonight?”

“Uh, okay?” replies Aragorn junior slightly puzzled. 

He blinks repeatedly but Emilia has already turned back to Bradley and Katie. Katie laughs, ties her long black hair back and waggles her eyebrows at him. Emilia, too, is still looking at him pointedly and apparently she waits for a response. Bradley panics and hastily opts for flattery.

“Uh, that was educational as well as arousing?”

Emilia looks satisfied and gives young Aragorn, who is still staring at her with something like disbelieving reverence, one of her sweeter smiles when she thinks no one is looking. 

Bradley feels as relieved as any impala would after a near death experience. He has no idea what that demonstration was supposed to teach him though. Aside from fear. 

He doesn’t mind so much. His professors try to teach him a lot of stuff he doesn’t even begin to understand and he’s become immune against the frustration that this initially woke in him. Now, he just tells himself that there is enough time to understand it sometime later and then he focuses on the bits he does get and goes from there. 

Also, when Bradley comes back to the hall with a big soup of information in his head and no idea how to handle it, Colin has this ability to ask just the right questions. Like he’s handing Bradley the spoon so Bradley can eat up his own brain soup. Only in a less zombie like way.

Bradley just wishes that he could do the same for Colin. Be there at the right time with the right words, he means. Because lately, Colin seems a bit under the weather. Sure, to anyone who isn’t looking closer there’s nothing different – Colin was a slightly taciturn all-black loner all along, he studies physics and everyone knows that physicists are notoriously antisocial. Bradley _is_ looking closer though and he knows Colin better than most of the people on campus (than _all_ other people on campus, a voice in his head keeps insisting and it sounds rather snippy which Bradley finds quite off topic). 

There are some nights when Bradley tries to talk Colin into going out with him and his mates. Colin insists that he doesn’t have time although Bradley knows perfectly well that his evening is wide open. He asks Colin whether he thinks Bradley’s mates are stupid (which is still no reason not to go out with them. Bradley does it, doesn’t he.). But Colin says no. Bradley is very willing to skip the boozing and just hang with Colin instead and he says as much. But Colin practically shoves him out of their room with physical force like he doesn’t want to spend time with him. 

Bradley is really good at being quiet when he comes back in the middle of the night, even when sloshed. But once or twice he still could swear that Colin is awake anyway. Just staring at the ceiling in the darkness. And he is even crosser with the alarm clock than usual the next morning and he is bad-tempered and even more closed off the entire following day. 

Bradley hates those days. He hates them even more when he thinks that all he can do for Colin is just leave him alone. That’s a crappy sort of help.

There are other nights when they work in their study, Bradley at his desk by the window and Colin on his bed. Bradley finishes one of his robots and turns around to see whether it’s okay to interrupt Colin’s studying to brag about it. But Colin is already looking at him with that slightly out of focus stare that means he has been looking for a while already. All his attention is turned inward and he left nothing on his face for Bradley to read, nothing but those hard lines around his eyes that Bradley can’t help but think _he_ put there. Bradley tentatively asks, “Mate?” or “You okay?” or something and Colin’s eyes refocus. He smiles a fake smile that Bradley doesn’t buy, finds vaguely insulting and makes his stomach drop. He says “Course it is”, then he turns his eyes down, back to his books.

Bradley has no idea what he is supposed to do. People normally aren’t sad or morose or even mildly contemplative around him. Katie says that it’s because he claims all the attention like a toddler and everyone is too busy trying to keep him from breaking his neck to worry about their own problems. Katie is a hussy. Usually it’s easy for Bradley to make people smile and normally he thinks they are glad that he’s around. In what rubbish universe has he lost his magic touch where the one person that matters most is concerned? 

It’s frustrating to no end and Bradley doesn’t even have a mate to talk to about it. His friends have excelled in proving that they are useless when it comes to first aid in the soul department. And Colin is way too smart to not see through it if Bradley approached him with ‘Look, I have this good mate who is worrying me with his brooding which is too much even for his goth standards. Now what shall I do?’.

After a couple of weeks he is desperate enough to ask his dad for advice. His father flat out tells him that he should just apologise for whatever it is that he has done. Bradley stares at him blankly and reconsiders asking Eoin for help, or even Emilia. 

Of course he doesn’t, he’s not stupid. Instead he calls his gran. At first that seems promising because while he is explaining the problem with the necessary detail – it takes about half an hour – she makes very comforting noises, and Bradley is sure that this has to lead to something useful. 

But then she completely mucks it up by telling him to “bake some scones for your nice boyfriend”. 

So, clearly his gran is delusional. She of all people should know _perfectly_ well that he doesn’t know _how_ to bake. 

In the end he realises it’s down to him alone to save the day. Because clearly no one else even gets the point. 

Thankfully, there is _one_ thing that Bradley is really, really good at.

It’s about a week after he came to this conclusion that he has finished his project. It’s an exceptionally warm day, considering it’s only the beginning of March, and he finds Colin on one of the lawns in front of their hall. He’s sitting on his laid out coat, has his back leaned against an oak tree and is reading a book. As per usual he is dressed in black and his hair is even messier than usual. It looks all very intellectual and introspective and Bradley has just had enough of this.

“I got a present for you,” he announces without preamble the moment he has reached Colin. “For your birthday.”

Colin puts his book down and looks up at him, Bradley standing between him and the tentative sun.

“My birthday is in January.”

Bradley shrugs, unperturbed. “I know.”

“You were at the party. Remember the one where you attempted to light firecrackers in the hallway?”

“I was a bit drunk at that point.”

Colin snorts. “Yeah, I know. You tried to light them with your sonic screwdriver.”

“That _was_ a good party.”

“I concur.”

They are smiling at each other, silent for a moment, until Bradley realises that he has a reason for being here. He crouches down next to Colin and unshoulders his backpack.

“You have to agree that it is pretty stupid of you to have your birthday collide with New Year celebrations.”

“That’s not exactly my fault.”

“I know, which is why I decided that you should have a birthday gift now.”

Without further ado Bradley unzips his backpack and pulls out a shoebox. He didn’t have any wrapping paper so he just wound an entire role of sticky tape around it. He holds it out to Colin who looks at it with slight surprise, like up until now he thought Bradley was just having him on.

“Okay,” he says after a moment then looks back at Bradley. “Well, thank you?”

Bradley shrugs, his eyes firmly fixed on the box. He feels jittery for some reason.

“Open it first before you say that. I don’t want you to have to take it back, the thank you, though I suppose you’re too nice for that and will start hating me for thanking me for something that isn’t all that thankworthy in your opinion. Not that I don’t think it’s awesome, mind you, otherwise I wouldn’t give it to you.”

He looks back up at Colin and finds him smiling and apparently this is enough these days to make Bradley loose all doubts. Colin waits for another moment, makes sure Bradley has run out of babble. Then he pulls his keys out of his jeans and uses them to slice through the sticky tape. Bradley bites his lower lip as Colin takes the lid off and looks inside.

“It’s – that is –,” he says after a moment.

“It’s a robot,” Bradley explains even though it’s obvious. 

Colin reaches into the box, takes the robot out and regards it carefully. The robot is five inches tall and sturdy. He has only got one arm which is holding a small hammer. 

“He can,” Bradley says and points at it, “you see you can connect him to your alarm clock and when it rings then –“

“He smashes it with his hammer,” Colin finishes for him, his eyes firmly fixed on his gift. 

The careful tenderness with which his fingertips touch the small robot makes a lump appear in Bradley’s throat. Then suddenly it’s gone and instead there is a tiny supernova in his chest, right where his heart is supposed to be. Odd, that. He rubs the back of his neck, shuffles a little closer. 

“Yeah. Well, I hope he doesn’t really smash it, you know, that would be a bit expensive, buying a new alarm clock every day. He’s just supposed to turn it off.”

“That’s...” Colin starts but then just shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Colin turns the robot in his hand so it is looking straight at him and he regards it thoughtfully for a moment longer. Bradley reckons he is obviously trying to suss out how the mechanics will work. He isn’t sure whether Colin figures it out or just gives up for the moment, either way, eventually he puts the robot back into its box. He looks back up at Bradley with almost the careless smirk Bradley is used to from him.

“So, if we’re celebrating my birthday on April, 9th now where does that put yours?”

Bradley shifts and lets himself fall onto the shortly cropped grass next to Colin.

“I was thinking of taking over that New Year’s spot that’s become vacant recently. I dig the idea of having the entire nation celebrate my birthday with fireworks.”

Colin chuckles and lets the shoebox rest on his thighs. “It would be better yet if we started calling it Bradley Day. Or James’s Jubilee.”

“It would.”

“So this here was just an elaborate plan to get my birthday spot?”

“Come on, Colin. You know me,” Bradley laughs. “Whatever else would it be about?”

Bradley leans back against the tree and his shoulder bumps against Colin’s. Colin readjusts a little but doesn’t move so that their shoulders keep touching. Looking up through the bare branches of the tree into the sky Bradley feels at ease with the world in general again. Colin offers him gum. Bradley chews it like the well deserved reward for his brilliance it is while Colin takes another look at the robot in his lap.

Now that that’s sorted and Bradley succeeded in getting Colin back into a good mood, he turns on his extra intense Bradley-chipperness to make sure that it stays that way. Whenever he observes that Colin shows early signs of brooding he does something deliberately stupid (even for his standards) to make him laugh. Or (and he prefers that strategy over the other one) he just pretends he doesn’t notice Colin’s lone-wolf-moment and drags him out with him. Alternatively he tricks him into several hours of Mario Kart which usually means that Bradley gets hit in the head by a ridiculous amount of different coloured turtle shells and repeatedly gets flattened by a Gorilla with an attitude problem.

Sometimes when Bradley secretly glances at Colin (just to make sure his plan is working), Colin still looks like he is completely wrapped up in these hush-hush thoughts that he won’t share even if Bradley was extra-persistent. Bradley tries to make it go away with more smiles, more laughs, more stupid antics and usually he succeeds in getting a smile out of Colin. It’s still a little odd, like there is sadness there too, but Bradley takes what he can get. 

He’s sure he’ll find a way to make that go away as well eventually. If ‘accidentally’ falling down the hall’s staircase or letting Colin win a skirmish in their ongoing Cybermen vs. Vampires dispute doesn’t work, he’ll find something else. He’s always been an optimist. What’s important is that he and Colin once again spend most of their free time together like it’s supposed to be. 

He doesn’t even notice that his 24/7 roommate maintenance has the side effect of him neglecting the rest of the world. He doesn’t notice until the first Saturday in May when Matt suddenly stands in his room and announces, 

“You’ve got a man date with me and the lads tonight, Bradley. It is Bradley, isn’t it? I can hardly recall it’s been so long.”

So, Bradley is having a night out with Matt and the lads. And he will always remember it as the day that Matt proved once and for all why he is Bradley’s best mate and always will be. 

Here is why:

Somewhere in the later hours of the night they are in that pub with the vomit coloured tiles and Matt is a bit clingy. He is treating Bradley like a convenient steel beam in the middle of the pub, leaning his full weight against him and trusting him to keep him upright. Bradley has no problem with handsy people, and it’s okay if Matt feels the need to physically attach himself to him to make sure he doesn’t run away. After all, they started the night with Tom, Santiago, Eoin and Ade and somehow they already managed to lose all four. Also, Bradley has neglected his best mate a little over the last few months. He feels bad for a moment, then he realizes that Matt’s clinginess is mostly due to him being utterly shitfaced. Bradley knows because he matched him drink for drink.

“You know why I’m your best mate?” shouts Matt into his ear because a. he is drunk and b. it is quite loud.

Bradley’s feelings of being a bad mate flood back and he drapes his arm over Matt’s shoulder. 

“Matti. Mate. Is this about you getting insecure again?”

“No, that’s not it,” Matt says in his best impression of a halfway sober person. He ruins it by wagging his index finger in front of Bradley’s face and nearly poking his eye out with it. “This is me giving you valuable relationship advice.”

“Oh. Alright. Carry on then.” 

It’s not like anything can ever stop Matt from dishing out words of wisdom regarding life, love and (for some odd reason) custard.

Matt stands up straight and looks directly at Bradley. “So, you know how some people – not me – beat around the bush and insinuate things and expect you to pick up on that?” He shakes his head and his index finger disapprovingly. “Well, I know that that’s stupid. You are rubbish with hints, you’ll never figure it out.”

Bradley laughs. “So, you’re my best mate because when you’re shitfaced you insult my intellect?”

Matt imitates the buzzer from one of those annoying game shows. “Nrrrt, wrong. What I’m saying is that I’m not like those people. I tell you shit the way everyone should tell you shit, straight on and just God’s honest truth.”

“Like the way you told me all through school that you were gonna be following in Tom Baker’s footsteps?”

“That is still gonna happen. And also, I’m bringing bow ties back.” 

“Bow ties?” Bradley asks, his frown deepening. What have bow ties got to do with anything? “What have bow ties got to do with anything?”

“Everything,” says Matt grandly, then rethinks and corrects himself, “Nothing. This is not about bow ties or other fashion accessories.”

“That you just said ‘fashion accessories’ makes me want to vomit,” Bradley informs him and sips from his beer.

Matt ignores him. “This is about me being a true friend and telling you something that you’ve been too thick to notice on your own.”

“That you are a cock when you’re sloshed?”

“That you are in love with your roommate.”

Bradley doesn’t spew his beer all over the place but it is only because he has just swallowed it. No thanks to Matt. Matt looks at him, looking scarily sober all of a sudden. Or that’s just Bradley projecting.

“I’m in love –?” 

“You didn’t know that, did you?” Matt looks incredibly smug. “Ahah, told you. You have been for a while. So I thought someone should point it out to you.”

“Actually –“

Matt puts a finger over his own mouth (well, his chin, his coordination gets a bit sloppy after the first seven beers) and shushes him. 

“Don’t deny it. We both know it’s true. Well, I knew for a lot longer than you have, obviously. You were too busy being in love with Colin to actually notice it.”

Bradley ignores Matt’s self-satisfied tone of voice. 

He is in love with Colin. 

In Love. 

That thing when you are arse over heels into someone and seriously think that a deserted island, a Barry Manilow CD and a gallon of lube would be the best thing ever. 

Or something along those lines. 

Huh.

Bradley thinks about the last months and about how he can count on one hand the times he has done something without Colin and still has enough fingers left to flip someone off. He thinks about how he lets Colin steal his pencils and his emergency crisps, how he always asks Colin’s opinion before he does anything, whether it’s picking a burger from a fast food menu to or choosing classes. 

He can see their telly just as well from his own bed but regardless he has always automatically slumped down on Colin’s with him. He gets jealous – yeah, that is what it is, face it, James – whenever Colin is doing preposterous things like talking to other people. Colin being moody and brooding nearly results in Bradley having a heart attack from worrying. His sex dreams about Colin have become as elaborate as feature films. He hasn’t gone a single day for months without texting Colin from his classes. He has spent hours at parties with his arm over Colin’s shoulder and felt like he lost a body part when Colin went to the loo and didn’t let Bradley come. He made plans for the summer for a trip to Wales and automatically included Colin. 

He keeps dreaming of Colin and, especially recently, his dreams haven’t been focussing on just nakedness. He’s been dreaming about watching Doctor Who with Colin and still woke up with the need to snog the breath out of him. 

So, yeah, apparently Bradley is in love with him. 

Who knew.

“That explains a lot of things,” he concludes.

Matt, who used the time that Bradley needed to catch on to take a nap on Bradley’s shoulder, jerks up. 

“I know.”

“Huh,” says Bradley and shakes his head. 

Love. 

How about that?

“You’re welcome,” replies Matt. Obviously he considers the topic closed with that because he attempts to stand on his own again and says, “Now, can we head over to Burger King? I’m starving.”

Of course Bradley takes him to Burger King and even pays for his Whopper because he is grateful and also because Matt has no money. At BK they stumble into Eoin and Santiago again and then get royally and totally plastered. Bradley has just had Important news about his emotional state and he is of the firm belief that revelations such as this one should bob about in your beer soaked head for a while like a rubber duck in a well filled tub.

For the entire next week Bradley has a shitload to do for uni. He ignores it completely in favour of contemplating how to woo Colin. In the long run that is far more important than one-degree-of-freedom mechanical systems. Now that he has realised this whole business about being in love and everything, there is just the small obstacle of getting Colin to suss out that Bradley is prime boyfriend material. Then there shall be snogging and shagging and maybe hand holding because Bradley is rather in love with Colin’s hands as well.

His first wooing attempt consists of making Colin tea (he is British after all). But he has to admit that this plan fails, mostly due to the fact that he stumbles over one of Colin’s combat boots that lies abandoned in the middle of the room, spills the tea over Colin’s bed and Colin has to change the sheets. 

He thinks about doing the same thing with milk (without the spilling bit) because frankly milk is delicious. But when he remembers that Colin is lactose intolerant and he supposes that making someone fart isn’t really traditionally considered wooing.

Apparently in romantic comedies people convey their love messages by staring meaningfully at each other across the room. So Bradley tries that next. Any plan that involves staring openly at Colin’s mouth and the curve of his jaw is a good one. He has a good feeling about this at first because Colin keeps looking up and meets his gaze. But then he proves to be an utter prat by telling Bradley worriedly that he looks like he was coming down with a fever.

Bradley’s originally high spirits are a further dampened on Saturday when Colin reminds him that they have planned to go out drinking with some of Colin’s mates. Generally Bradley has no problems with Colin’s friends (as long as they don’t touch him in any way) but he spends a good deal of his Saturday wishing they’d all collectively die of the plague before sunset. How is he supposed to woo Colin when they are in some club where Colin can’t understand a word he is saying? It’s sad but the only option is sudden death for Colin’s friends.

Inconveniently, nothing of the sort happens so Bradley has to resort on somewhat childish measures. First, he is one of the last to leave the cafeteria, then he spends about half an hour under the shower and then spends about the same amount of time on deciding which t-shirt and which trainers to wear. In short he dawdles like a pro and completely ignores Colin’s persistent “Hurry up or we’ll be late”, hoping that by the time he is ready Colin will have lost his appetite for a night out. 

The problem is that as far as conniving plans to sabotage anything go, Bradley is far too good a person to actually see them through. So, instead of just nonchalantly suggesting that they could just as well stay in, he ends up running after Colin in order to catch the bus.

However, in their haste they take the wrong one and before they realise it they have ended up on the other side of the river. They get off the bus about a gazillion miles from the spot where they are supposed to meet Colin’s friends. By then Bradley feels seriously bad about the whole sabotage business and tries to make up for it by taking the initiative. 

He quickly calculates which is probably the nearest tube station, then he shoves Colin encouragingly and starts running. Colin utters a sound of protest but follows him anyway. With his footsteps sounding reassuringly close by, Bradley dashes around corners and feels like he is in an 80s cop show in the middle of a wild chase. He tries to stay close to the river because that’s his only point of orientation but some sacrifices have to be made in the name of speed. 

Just when he starts sweating for real and thinks that the next tube station is further away than he’d anticipated, the footsteps behind him grow slower. Finally they stop altogether and Colin shouts,

“Stop running, Bradley, damnit!”

Bradley slows down a bit, turns around and jogs backwards. 

“But we’ll be late!”

“I don’t care,” Colin replies loud and definitive and definitely out of breath. “I think one of my lungs just collapsed.”

He bends over, his hands on his knees and Bradley can see from the motion of his shoulders that he is panting heavily. He wipes sweat from his forehead and jogs back to where Colin is standing.

“You should do some running training, seriously Colin,” he muses, jogging on the spot. “Instead of all the Dungeons and Dragons.”

Colin gives him a murderous glare through his fringe but still can’t stand upright. 

“I’ve told you I have never played that in my life. Also, I have no _time_ for sports. You of all people should know that.”

“Because I’m the one witnessing your embarrassing lack of running stamina just now?”

Colin’s hands let go of his knees and he straightens once again. He has his breathing under control now even if he is still inhaling with slightly parted lips. He stuffs his hands back into the front pocket of his black hoodie and like that he regards Bradley for a moment.

“Because I spend all my time with _you_ ,” he says.

“Oh, because of that. I see.” Bradley can’t help grinning because it’s true. “I keep forgetting about that.

“You forget that I am here? You say the nicest things,” Colin replies with his usual dry sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and starts walking again, the way they were headed and away from Bradley. Of course Bradley is at his side again not a second later.

“No, no. It’s more like you are like, say, my hand,” he tries to explain and demonstratively holds out his right hand. “It’s so _there_ that I don’t really think about it. But I’m still attached to it and I really wouldn’t want to do without it and I appreciate it, especially when I’m, say like, tossing off –

Colin looks at him like he is intensely sure that Bradley has a brain tumour. 

“I’m pretty sure that was the most disturbing thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Bradley looks at his hand and how it is actually making wanking motions which indeed is slightly disconcerting. He glares at his hand reproachfully and then grounds it in the pocket of his jeans so it can think about what it has done.

“I admit I didn’t really think this through all the way to the end.”

“That is the fraction of hope I was clinging to.“

Colin pulls out his own hand and mimics Bradley’s wanking motion. He does it with an arched eyebrow which is supposed to make it ironic. Bradley isn’t sure because he also finds it disturbingly arousing, those fingers wrapped around an imaginary... He clears his throat before any words along those lines can accidentally climb out of it and says,

“Oh put that away, Colin. You’re being obscene.”

Colin laughs out loud at the thought of Bradley worrying about obscenity, but slips his hand back into the warmth of his hoodie. 

They both grin to themselves and walk side by side silently until they’ve reached a crossroad. Bradley looks left and right and has to admit that his running stunt managed to get them a bit lost. He is pretty sure that there is a tube station somewhere left from them and they should get back to the river that way as well. While Bradley tries to spur on his inner GPS Colin just stands next to him, patiently waiting. He apparently has resigned himself to the fact that his plans for the evening have been cancelled in favour of getting lost in London with Bradley. Bradley feels incredibly good about that. Then he feels a little rueful again, but only a little.

“So, what now?” he asks. “You wanna text your mates? See where they are? We can still meet up somewhere.”

Colin thinks about it for a moment, then he shakes his head. “Nah. They’ll be drunk already and I hate being the most sober one.” 

Bradley grins, he can’t help it. Colin has the ability to _act_ as drunk as the next bloke. He is the perfect chameleon in a pub and Bradley knows that he is perfectly happy like that usually.

“I know what you mean. Angel for example turns into a giant hussy when she’s sloshed. It’s equally true and embarrassing.” 

“Huh, interesting. I didn’t think you could actually feel something like mortification.”

Bradley laughs and lightly swats the back of Colin’s head for that comment. Now that there are completely new possibilities for the evening, he spontaneously opts for finding out where the hell they are first and foremost. He turns left and starts walking again because he still figures that that must be where the Thames is. Colin walks next to him and Bradley receives a light elbow in the ribs – Colin is not even pulling his hands out for this – in retaliation for the swatting.

They wander about admittedly rather aimlessly for a while, too busy sharing stories about mortification and mortal embarrassment. Bradley has loads of those and Colin is laughing so loud that it turns some heads from people standing outside some pubs. It’s a warm night and it’s perfect for getting pissed outside, but if given the choice Bradley would always rather pick a stroll with Colin.

They pass a footie pub and Bradley starts singing along to the song they are playing, loud music and drunken hollers ebbing from the pub’s open door. He is still singing when they are so much further down the road that the noise of the pub is a mere whisper in the background. He looks pointedly at Colin during the refrain and holds out an invisible microphone. Colin, predictably, rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It’s the third time around that does the charm, Colin finally answers Bradley’s ‘football’s coming home’ with a slightly less loud, less enthusiastic but perfectly melodic ‘it’s coming home, it’s coming’. Bradley laughs out loud in delight, pats Colin’s shoulder and leaves his hand there as they walk on.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for that to happen for a whole year.”

“Do you wanna go to a karaoke bar? Is that what you’re saying in this very untypical roundabout way?” Colin asks in response and there is both despair and acceptance in his voice so Bradley looks at him with newly dawning hope. Colin sees it, sighs and says with a shake of his head, “The things I do for you.”

“You have never actually been to one with me, Colin.”

“Fine. The things I _consider_ doing for you then.”

“Oh, are we at that stage of our friendship?” Bradley laughs. “Comparing sacrifices we made for the other?”

“I don’t think that’s an actual stage. I think you caught that on ‘Coupling’.”

“I think you might be right.”

A group of people comes their way on the already narrow sidewalk. Bradley presses a little closer to Colin as they pass each other, feels the muscles of Colin’s shoulders flex under the thin fabric of his hoodie as he does so. 

When they have squeezed past them Colin looks at him contemplatively. “If comparing sacrifices was a real thing, I’d win though.”

Bradley gapes at him. “I keep letting you win at Mario Kart just so you feel good about yourself.”

Colin scoffs. “And that has nothing to do with your troubled relationship with penguins and moles. Besides, do you remember that time when I had to leave that party because you drunk texted me that you got lost in the woods in front of our hall? That consists of five trees max?”

Bradley does remember. He also remembers that he could have found his way back on his own if he’d tried. Texting Colin was a kneejerk reaction. He doesn’t explain it though.

“I was _saving_ you from a night of boredom. Who throws a Gotham City theme party?”

Colin pointedly looks at Bradley’s chest. The green t-shirt he is wearing shows rodeo riding Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

“You would?”

“But if I did it would be a brilliant party. You see the difference?” 

Colin still shakes his head and argues, “You’d be a crappy Batman. You can’t help smiling.”

“Whatever,” Bradley waves that aside with one grand gesture of his hand. “I still win the sacrifice competition. Remember back in autumn, Chemistry 101, when you tried to set me on fire?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Colin says after a moment. He turns his eyes down, chuckles. 

“What, no smart comeback? Did you seriously try to off me?” 

“No, no. I just remembered something. Why that experiment went awry.”

“I bloody well hope that it wasn’t an assassination attempt but a fuck up,” Bradley says boisterously, then much quieter he asks, “Why did it?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think you’ll even remember.”

Bradley frowns at Colin’s tone of voice and makes Colin look at him by nudging him with his elbow.

“Hey, I can tell you every World Cup winning country in chronological order from the top of my head. Forwards and backwards. Of course I’ll remember.”

It’s that moment that the Thames reappears in front of them. They are officially not lost any longer, just a hundred feet away from the Jubilee Bridge. Bradley inhales the vaguely swampish river air and is momentarily distracted by the lights that dance on the water’s surface. Only when they’ve reached the bridge Colin answers him. When Bradley gets nervous words stumble out of him like drunkards from a pub. When Colin does, it’s like he double checks every word in his head for rabies before he carefully lets it out.

“Okay, so you told me you were planning to build an army of Terminators looking like you for your own amusement.”

“Technically to achieve world domination, but go on.”

“Right. And we were haggling out who of us would be leading the James-faced terminator army, you remember?”

He looks at Bradley who nods.

“Of course.” 

“Well, I said I wasn’t sure whether you’d make such a great leader. And you replied that you didn’t really care as long as there was dancing. That’s what you said, ‘as long as we dance’.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

There’s that soft curving smile of his that always makes Bradley think that Colin wants to say something to him, something very important, but that has always remained unsaid till now. 

“Now, I know that that was just you being rubbish with metaphors again,” Colin says. “But for some reason I had this image in my head. Of us. Dancing, not leading killing machines into battle. That’s why I dropped the test tube and that’s why you nearly found an untimely end.”

Colin smiles at Bradley and just like that it’s all there again. The light amusement over the mistake, the ironic exaggeration of the subsequent drama, the months and months of easy camaraderie following that incident. Around his eyes there is that hint of weariness, of frustration that Bradley doesn’t want to be there, that he can’t help but see still. But there is also trust and friendship and easily mastered endurance in the way he is looking at Bradley and keeps looking at him.

The look doesn’t last longer than a second or two. Still, that’s all Bradley needed, everything else is erased from his mind. 

“I love you,” he says.

Colin looks away and laughs quietly in response. 

“Don’t laugh.” Bradley stops walking and grabs Colin’s shoulder, like that touch will make him understand. “I just – okay, that wasn’t in chronological order, and you probably weren’t –. Let me try this again. I just need to ask, when we were dancing, was there playing an 80s power ballad by any chance?”

Colin’s head whips around and he looks at Bradley with honest, bone deep, laid bare surprise in his eyes. It’s gone in a flash and his voice is as dry-humoured as ever. 

“Have you been reading my diary? Not that I have one and not that I’d write stuff like that into it but if I had, then the question –“

“I haven’t read your diary,” Bradley interrupts. “If you keep one, I don’t know, I don’t search through your stuff. And you know, it’d be fine, for all I care you could write it all in verses and that’d be super with me.”

“Why are we talking about my hypothetical diary?”

“We aren’t. You distracted me. You do that to me, you know. You distract me, you are distracting.” Bradley gives Colin a light shove. “What I wanted to say was that I was thinking the same thing. At exactly the same moment.”

“You were standing in the chemistry lab, about to get set on fire, and you were thinking about dancing with me to the sound of 80s power ballads?”

Colin doesn’t believe a single thing that comes out of Bradley’s mouth, Bradley can hear it in his voice. So he holds on to his arm and buries him under an avalanche of words.

“Slow-dancing, it was slow-dancing, you know the kind that isn’t really proper dancing at all, more like slightly inappropriate cuddling while standing up? And the song was ‘I just died in your arms tonight’. Haven’t got a clue why because as far as songs go, that one is quite rubbish to sing along to, and I don’t get how dying in someone’s arms is romantic. You’d get blood all over you. And possibly brains.”

“I think you’re confusing that with a zombie attack,” Colin corrects him. “Also, I think it’s supposed to be metaphorical. Like, the French say ‘little death’ to orgasms, something like that.”

“I never liked the French. Very dubious people. And what’s with all that cheese?”

“They are said to be the world champions of romance.”

With that Colin turns away from Bradley and towards the bridge’s banister. He rests his elbows on it and looks down over at the London eye, blueish against the night sky. Bradley wouldn’t care less about the nifty lighting effects if they didn’t make Colin’s profile look so utterly gorgeous right now. He steps next to Colin, a little close maybe, as he mimics Colin’s posture their arms are touching, like there aren’t yards and yards of space to their left and right. 

He nudges Colin lightly and asks, “Are you saying my talk about dancing and zombie gore isn’t romantic enough for you?” 

“Depends. Is it supposed to be romantic?”

The seriousness of that question is visible on Colin’s face. Bradley doesn’t know whether he should feel encouraged or nervous or slightly insulted. It’s probably a mix of all three. 

“Colin,” he says. “I told you I want to slow-dance with you and that we apparently have a psychic connection or something. And if that wasn’t enough of a tip off? I also said that I love you. You need to pay a bit better attention.”

Despite the joke Bradley has forgotten how to blink. Or how to breathe. He scans Colin’s face for any sign of understanding, oh-so-very-much hopes for a sign of something more than just that. It’s not there. 

Instead Colin looks him directly in the eyes and says, “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Maybe that you do, too? You don’t have to, you don’t, I don’t want to be –“ 

“I wasn’t referring to that!” 

Colin sounds angry now. Angry. He pushes away from the banister and glares at Bradley. Bradley feels his heart sink, feels stupidly miserable, like there is nothing that could ever make this right again. 

Colin says, “I meant the bit where you, _you_ told me to get a clue. You! For _months_ I have been trying to – And you _dare_ to tell me –.”

He falls silent and he glares at Bradley and Bradley for once in his life doesn’t know what to say. It’s a truly wretched feeling. Then Colin shakes his head in exasperation.

“I have been in love with you since that stupid Chemistry class and you have the _nerve_ to tell me to pay attention? Honestly, Bradley, I don’t even know.”

For a moment longer Bradley is still too occupied with being torn between feeling anxious and hopelessly in love with the thunderstorm in Colin’s eyes. In love.

In love.

Wait.

“You have?” Bradley says, about an eternity later in which he died of a heart attack, got reborn and ended up in the same place, on the bridge with Colin again, so clearly this is fate. “You’re in love with me?”

Colin’s eyes dart away from Bradley’s, down to his mouth, and when he’s looking back up again the frown has deepened on his forehead.

“Oh, don’t think you get to smile now and everything’s rainbows and unicorns.”

Bradley shakes his head, bites his lower lip but it escapes and his mouth is totally out of control. 

“I’m not, I mean I can’t control it, I just do. But that’s good, right? That we are on the same page here?”

Colin rolls his eyes and pulls a face, like he does when Bradley beat him at their random Goonies Trivia quiz and he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Yeah, only that I have been there since well, it could as well be the stoneage, it seems so fucking long.” 

“Sorry?” Bradley says carefully, hopefully. 

“Sorry?” Colin repeats. “That’s it? I spent the last few months fading like a flower that has listened to Roxette for too long and you come along with ‘sorry’?”

There’s a smile hiding there on his face and Colin is less and less capable of biting it back. Bradley’s hand isn’t jittery, it totally isn’t, when he steps closer, reaches out and mimics Colin’s push against the chest from earlier.

“You know it’s just as much your fault. You knew I was a bit slow when it comes to, well, things. You could’ve told me a bit earlier.”

That promise of a smile is still there but Colin’s voice is completely serious when he replies, “I have been _waiting_ for the penny to drop in that stupid scatterbrained head of yours. And all that time all I could think was that you and I, that we would be so good together. We already are but we could be so much better even. Tell me, Bradley, how can anyone be so persistently oblivious?”

He looks at Bradley challengingly, slightly breathless with exasperation. Like he is just waiting for Bradley to try a lame excuse so he can rip his head off in response.

And Bradley?

Bradley grabs Colin’s shoulders and forcefully pulls them together. 

And then he kisses him. 

He presses his lips onto Colin’s with all the desperation and thrill and _love_ that is raging inside of him and that wants to get out and prove to Colin that bloody hell yes, they are so, so much better like this. Colin’s lips feel full and hot and completely caught by surprise. Bradley presses their mouths together and he grips Colin’s shoulders harder and his heart is trying to jackhammer its way out of his chest and directly into Colin’s.

It takes a second for Colin to catch up. And shit, Bradley would laugh with glee at that, finally something where _he_ is the one on the speed boat, the one to pull Colin along as they go faster and faster. He would laugh but he can’t, he is already without breath and feels stupidly lightheaded like all these _feelings_ gobble up his oxygen supply. 

And then Colin reacts. 

Like a drowning man resurfacing he inhales sharply and then he grabs Bradley’s head with both hands and kisses him back so hard that it hurts. Bradley gasps, his lips part and Colin tilts his head and just like that there is tongue invasion. And fleetingly Bradley thinks that these were the only two seconds that he will ever have had control over a kiss with Colin. 

Colin owns him with that kiss, he already knows exactly how Bradley wants to be kissed, whether he knew it before or not. Colin presses himself against him, his chest solid against Bradley’s and Bradley tightens his grip, wants to greedily take as much of Colin as he possibly can. Colin curls his tongue against Bradley’s, he licks Bradley’s mouth like they have been doing this for years, like snogging is an Olympic team sport and they own the gold medal.

As far as amazing moments of life go, this one easily beats Wash’s leaf-on-the-wind soar in ‘Serenity’. It is, frankly, the most brilliant thing that has ever happened to Bradley. 

Their teeth clash and Bradley’s brain still isn’t functioning and his lungs forgot how to do the whole breathing thing, Colin’s grip on his skull is hard enough to leave indentations and Bradley grabs Colin’s shoulders way too hard, Colin tastes of tea and gum and frustration and furtively Bradley tries to convince him to let him drive for a moment at least. Colin responds by pushing his tongue even harder against Bradley’s, likewise a challenge and a request declined, and Bradley bites him in response. 

It’s messy and dirty and they are going to have bruises on their lips. It’s completely fucked up and unreal and yeah, the most brilliant thing ever.

Abruptly they break apart, just an inch or two, and pant like too heavily worked horses. They chuckle breathlessly in the way you normally only do right after an orgasm. Colin leans his forehead against Bradley’s, slides his hands a little further down so they can rest against Bradley’s neck.

“God, bloody finally,” he murmurs. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I am such an idiot, apparently.”

“Bradley,” Colin responds with a raw, chuckle-soft voice.

It’s just his name and Bradley should have heard it in all intonations possible already. He hasn’t. Right in the middle of the Jubilee Bridge Bradley stands chest to chest with Colin, their faces touching, their hands on each other, and it’s not enough, damn, it’s so not enough.

He tries taking a few calming breaths and the world becomes a little less jittery and blurry around the edges again. He lets his mouth ghost over Colin’s and Colin catches his lower lip, a quick reaffirming nip before he lets go again.

“Are you still mad?” Bradley asks.

“Possibly,” Colin’s fingers play with the frayed collar of Bradley’s t-shirt. “I don’t know right now. Ask me again later.”

Bradley chuckles and wraps his arms around Colin in a hug that is as quick as it is tight. Colin grunts in response but otherwise lets Bradley squeeze the life out of him without protest. 

“You _should_ have said something earlier,” Bradley insists as he loosens his grip again. “Think about what we missed because of you.”

Colin tilts his head and regards him with that superior expression of his. It’s confusingly sexy now, paired off with kiss swollen lips.

“Bradley. How many people ever had their arm draped over my shoulder for entire evenings without getting punched in the face?”

The thought of other people groping Colin automatically makes Bradley frown. How dare they. He growls lowly, has a bit of a Batman moment and silently swears that he will find these people and... Abruptly he realises that there was only ever one bloke allowed to do any arm-draping whatsoever. Bradley himself.

“I also let you sleep in my bed,” Colin adds in the same tone of voice, his hands warm against Bradley’s sides.

“Well, to be fair, that’s only when I fall asleep while watching telly.”

“And it never occurred to you that I could just wake you up? Or, you know, take your bed for the night? Instead of lying down right next to you?”

“I actually was wondering about that at one point,” Bradley says, toying with the draw string of Colin’s hoodie. “Those beds are a bit small for two people.”

“That’s because you have a chest like a tank,” Colin points out in that particularly not-helpful way of his and pats Bradley’s chest like you would the hood of a car.

“Thank you,” Bradley says and can’t help but grin.

“That wasn’t a chat up line.” 

“Liar.”

“Well, mostly it wasn’t. Mostly it was me having temporary bed-related claustrophobia thanks to you.”

Bradley laughs and discovers that apparently his reaction to Colin’s smartarsery now is needing to touch him more. Lightly he tilts his head, pushes his nose against Colin’s.

“And you wonder why I haven’t picked up on your subtle supposed-to-be hints...”

Colin merely scoffs in response. “If I had been more obvious I’d have been parading around naked in front of you. Oh wait, I actually _did_ that!”

Bradley pulls back enough so Colin can fully appreciate his slack-jawed state of shock. ‘Appreciate’ as in ‘feel responsible for’ the system overload and crash of the mainframe.

“That – all that nakedness was intentional?!”

“Of course it bloody was! Do you think I am an exhibitionist?”

“I – uh,” says Bradley intelligently. He needs to be excused, there are things exploding in his head. “Maybe?” 

Colin’s face scrunches up and then a second later he is smiling in this unique mixture of utterly endearing and completely shiteating that no one aside from him can pull off. In a hot surge Bradley’s body remembers all the mornings of accidental eye slippage and to what that led when he had some time for himself. His wanking fantasy repertoire suddenly includes that smile and kissing it right now seems an absolute necessity. 

He reels Colin in by the draw stings which are still in his hands and he drops the lightest of kisses onto the corner of Colin’s smiling mouth. Colin exhales in a small quiet pleased sigh and some of Bradley’s vital organs turn to pudding in his chest when Colin responds with a kiss that is equally tender. His lips are pliant and so damn soft that they should come with a warning, ‘instant addiction’ or something. Bradley feels Colin’s hand against his side, feels it sliding down his ribcage, and really wishes he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt right now, Jubilee Bridge or not. 

With the thought of him being able to touch Colin like that, the prospect of getting to kiss his skin all over, it becomes vital to deepen the kiss. Colin’s fingers bunch the fabric of his shirt as he holds on to him and Bradley untangles his own from the drawstring, caresses Colin’s jaw with them. He playfully pushes Colin’s tongue back into his mouth so they can continue amusing themselves over there.

This time, with this kiss, Bradley is aware of where they are and where they are standing, literally and metaphorically. He hears Colin’s quiet responses to his own little moans as well as the sounds of the river under their feet and the sounds of footsteps passing them. He knows that the darkness of the night is enveloping them like a blanket, just as it’s like the bridge’s illumination solely exists to spotlight them for everyone to see. Both are exactly like they should be. 

Colin whispers ‘Bradley’ against his lips, turns his name into a caress. Bradley replies ‘I’m in love with you’ with the touch of his hand against Colin’s face and says it, too. 

“I really do love you.”

Colin seems to find a way to step even closer to him, achieving a maximum touching percentage that Bradley highly approves of.

“I got that now.”

“Just making sure.”

Colin looks at him and is still smiling when he says, “In hindsight it makes me feel like a cock that I’ve been woeing over this for the last few months.”

Bradley thinks of Colin’s broody mood lately and knowing this now makes him feel like someone has injected battery fluid into his bloodstream.

“Colin,” he says and thinks that ‘sorry’ really, _really_ doesn’t cut it.

Colin however just replies humorously, “I can tell you, I felt the pain of every under-appreciated 50s house wife. I pour all my heart into a lovingly prepared dinner and my dickhead of a husband never even _notices_. It was tragic.”

For a moment Bradley considers whether this – amping up the irony and calling Bradley a prat and his significant other in the same sentence – is Colin’s version of pinching himself to check whether he’s really here and not just dreaming. If so, Bradley can definitely live with that. He’s been called a prat for much, much less worthy causes. 

Still, there is something that can’t be overlooked.

“You never actually cooked for me.” 

“I got you toffee pudding.”

“Tesco pudding isn’t exactly a homemade dinner.”

“I can’t cook. You know that.”

Colin smiles. Bradley smiles. There is a whole lot of that going on tonight.

“Well, thank you for the pudding then,” Bradley says. “It was very... lovingly prepared. By the Tesco people, but I suppose that still counts.”

“You bet it does.”

“Now that all this is settled, can we go home?” Bradley asks and helpfully elaborates, “I need to kiss you more. Nakedly. Well, you can keep your socks on if you want to, you got notoriously cold feet.”

Colin laughs, his hands loosely on Bradley’s shoulders. “How would you know?”

Bradley shrugs. “I notice things. Well, some things. You like to kick me in the head, remember, and my ears get frost bite from contact.”

Colin looks at Bradley’s ears, but it’s less of a concerned-for-their-welfare look and more one that suggests that Colin would like to do a bit dirtier things to them. Bradley feels them grow hot in response. 

Colin doesn’t deny his cold feet problem (it’s not really debatable anyway) but asks, “Can I wear a beanie as well so my ears won’t get cold?”

“Don’t be stupid, Colin. No one wears a beanie while having sex.”

Colin laughs. “Oh, is that what we were gonna do? Good of you to tell me.”

“That was the plan all along. At least try keeping up, Colin,” Bradley grins and leans in to kiss Colin once more on the lips. “And I don’t care that you have exhibitionistic tendencies. I’m not sharing you with the rest of London. Or anyone else.”

“I’m surprisingly fine with that,” Colin says with a grin, takes a step back from Bradley and tilts his head. 

Bradley takes this as the cue it was intended to be and they cross the river side by side. Their hands are stuffed into the pockets of their jeans because Bradley for one isn’t sure whether he can really own up to his no-molesting-in-public vow. 

Colin of course is a big cheat – figures he’d be one relationship-wise as well, after all he is the dirtiest Mario Kart player of all times and laughs while he throws blue turtle shells at Bradley’s head – and he makes it even harder for Bradley. Once they sit down on the bus he takes Bradley’s hand without any warning and tangles their fingers and looks happy. Bradley has to bite his tongue so it doesn’t just go ahead and lick Colin’s face in a way completely inappropriate for public transport.

Of course, Bradley has never been one to back down from a challenge and he is pretty aces at payback as well. So, the moment they’ve closed the door to their room behind them he has no problems at all using his superior strength to pin Colin against the door and pick up where they’ve left off. 

It’s all a bit of a blur from there for Bradley. In hindsight he thinks he should probably have installed cameras before any nakedness can short-circuit his brain. Okay, the whole camera-in-your bedroom thing is a bit too Big Brother creepy for his liking generally speaking. 

But he’d like to have a bit more detailed memories of how they got out of their clothes and into Bradley’s bed, how Bradley managed to wrap his hand around both their cocks without coming a nanosecond later and how exactly it happens that Colin has a huge hickey on his neck afterwards and there are bite marks adorning Bradley’s upper chest like a particularly unique war-trophy-necklace. More detailed memories than a haze of want-want-need-jesus-fucking-Christ-Colin-do-that-again-Colincolincolin-OMG. 

It’s not cool that his brain uses ridiculously unromantic pop culture acronyms to memorise his first time with Colin.

Luckily it’s not exactly like post-orgasmic Colin is in any frame of mind to ask Bradley for a detailed written review, judging from the shocked expression on his face and his inability to move his limbs for five minutes at least.

Even more luckily – Bradley is totally on a winning streak – Colin also decides that those five minutes are enough of a recuperation period and he lures Bradley into a second round with the elaborate ploy of being-right-there. And the second they start kissing again all of Bradley’s want and need and OMG is back full force but minus the haze of the frantic first time. 

There’s still a lot of hasty fumbling and gobsmacking urgency as well as sweat and grunts and general messiness. But there’s also laughter and long long moments of time-out-tenderness in which Bradley kisses up the inside of Colin’s thigh while his hand cups Colin’s knee, in which Colin kisses every inch of Bradley’s face with close-mouthed lips. Bradley brushes Colin’s too long fringe from his forehead, Colin finds the perfect way to grip Bradley’s biceps. Colin nuzzles this intensely sensitive spot right below Bradley’s ear, Bradley can’t stop sliding his hand over the curve of Colin’s bum. Bradley also might have to skip uni for the rest of the semester in favour of kissing Colin’s neck and collarbone while Colin does this thing with his hand on Bradley’s cock that makes him forget his own name.

Just like the first time there are no thoughts left in Bradley’s head the second before he comes into Colin’s fist. He stares down at Colin and fleetingly wonders whether there should be something he should be telling him right now. Then Big Bang 2.0 is happening right there in his brain and suddenly everything important explodes into existence - _I love you, I love you_ and aside from that there is nothing worth thinking as Bradley comes. 

Colin’s smile is decidedly smug, that’s the first impression Bradley is able to hold on to afterwards. Of course he finds it equally outrageous and appealing and does his best to pay him back in kind. Just because they are sleeping together now doesn’t mean that the one-upmanship has been laid to rest. The balance of the world is restored when Colin gasps Bradley’s name as he comes and digs his fingernails deep enough into the flesh of Bradley’s biceps for it to hurt. Bradley doesn’t gloat however, he finds that licking right across Colin’s open mouth is way more rewarding. 

Colin laughs breathlessly, then they kiss some more (which is temporarily interrupted by the sloppiest kind of cleaning up which mostly involves sullying Bradley’s Ninja Turtles tee) and then they kiss some more. 

Bradley says softly, “Oh, lookit, the bed suddenly isn’t too narrow for two people at all!”

“Yeah, but that is because you’re using _me_ as a mattress,” Colin replies dryly from under Bradley, his outstretched hand stroking Bradley’s shoulder blade.

“Text me when my magnificent tank chest is making it hard for you to breathe,” Bradley murmurs against Colin’s ear. 

Colin scoffs but when Bradley attempts to shift he won’t let him. There is only minimal rearrangement of body parts before they fall asleep.

Bradley may or may not have his usual dreams about Colin and his mouth but he can’t be sure. When he half-wakes in the night Colin’s cheek is pressed against his shoulder, Colin’s hand rests on his stomach. When Bradley turns his head to bury his face in Colin’s hair, Colin sighs in his sleep and scoots a little closer, traps Bradley’s leg under his thigh. So, how is Bradley to know which part is dream now and which is real?

They wake up the next morning to the sound of Bradley’s one armed robot smashing the hell out of Colin’s alarm clock. Colin snickers, Bradley tightens his grip around his shoulder and Colin looks at him with easy uncomplicated happiness. It instantly makes Bradley an enthusiastic follower of the faith that promotes trading morning-breath snogs are the best idea ever. 

So they end up spending the morning in bed and survive on sex and Bradley’s emergency stash of crackers. When they finally get up it’s only because the room is kind of reeking of sex and could do with an airing out. Also, Colin needs to pee and Bradley’s body decides it seriously craves something more than snacks to keep up with this new stage of their relationship.

And from that point on Bradley starts following in Colin’s footsteps by nicking food from the hall’s fridge and causing famine outbreaks in the cafeteria. And Colin deeply unsettles everyone who previously knew him as broody-taciturn-goth-bloke (which is pretty much everyone aside from Bradley) by running around with a huge slightly drunk, slightly manic smile on his face. 

Aside from these minor changes however, and aside from the great deal of spontaneous snogs in deserted library rooms / behind random trees / in the middle of the cafeteria / on Katie’s coffee table (don’t ask), aside from that, nothing much has changed in their every day life. Apparently they have been so very joined-at-the-hip before that none of their friends even comment on the snogs, the hand holding, Bradley’s open fly or the fact that Colin now continuously has sex hair. 

Well, Emilia corners Bradley and asks him questions about his sex life, but not because she is actually interested but because she knows it will embarrass Bradley. It does but mostly it makes Eoin hiccup with laughter and it scars Santiago for life. Angel beams like a Christmas tree and hugs a surprised Colin which Bradley thinks is pushing his no-touching-my-boyfriend!-rule. Matt starts wearing bow ties which he explains is his way of showing he can predict the future. And Bradley’s gran bugs him until Bradley brings Colin along for tea where she feeds him home-made scones until he is green around his nose.

Just like before Colin and Bradley hang out all the time, only that now Colin watches ‘Beetlejuice’ with his head in Bradley’s lap and Bradley has given up pretending he isn’t staring whenever Colin undresses. Bradley still works on his robots regularly and gets only a little distracted by the weight of Colin’s chin on his shoulder as he watches. And Colin still nicks Bradley’s emergency crisps only that now he eats them naked and under Bradley’s covers. 

The only thing that really changed is that they have to cut back on less important things like homework, showering and even Mario Kart in favour of kissing until their mouths are numb. And sex. There is tons of shagging that regularly fries the hard drive of Bradley’s mind.

It takes Bradley a relatively short time (for his standards anyway) to realise that his life is quite spectacularly brilliant. It fully hits him on a sunny Wednesday afternoon when they are sitting under Colin’s favourite oak tree. Or rather Colin is sitting and Bradley is making sure that he isn’t going anywhere by weighing his thigh down with the weight of his head. Colin’s right hand rests on Bradley’s collar bone and his fingers idly tap to the rhythm of the song he’s listening to. The grass is warm under Bradley’s back and he looks up at the blue sky, at Colin’s face that is still quite dashingly handsome even if it’s upside down. 

He thinks that he is stupidly lucky and of course – like it is with everything in his life these days – he instantly feels the need to share this revelation with Colin. Since Colin won’t hear him because of his headphones he reaches up and pokes him in the ribs until Colin unplugs his ears.

“I’ve had a thought,” Bradley announces when Colin looks down at him.

“Indeed?” Colin replies seemingly pleasantly surprised.

“If my life was a Doctor Who episode it would be the one where the Doctor blows up all Daleks for good. Or transforms them into unicorns. I am still a bit undecided about that part.” 

“I see what you mean,” Colin says seriously and mimics weighing options in his hands. “Whovian canon versus the allure of unicorns; that’s a tough one.”

Bradley isn’t sure whether he’s been made fun of. Considering it is Colin he is talking to that isn’t a longshot.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me what brought on this wise thought of mine?” 

Colin shrugs. “It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it.” 

He brushes Bradley’s fringe back with the tips of his fingers and afterwards lets them rest against Bradley’s scalp. Bradley for the hell of it can’t say why it has taken him so long to get here, to get this. Being so stupidly in love that there isn’t room in his chest for anything else (its tank-like qualities notwithstanding) _should_ be impossible to overlook.

“I’ve just had another thought,” he says. “I’m an enormous prat.”

“I could’ve told you _that_ earlier.”

“Or you could’ve just tied me to a chair and told me you loved me, but yeah, whatever.”

Colin chuckles at Bradley’s blasé tone of voice. “I can do that now, if you want me to –“

“You mean tell me that you’re in love with me?”

“No, I was talking about chair bondage,” Colin says dryly.

Bradley sits up and looks at Colin with arched brows. 

“You really think subtle sarcasm is the way to go with me? Do you even know me?”

Colin laughs and his hand on Bradley’s shoulder instinctively prevents that Bradley can move further away. 

“Okay, let me rephrase that.“ Colin grins and then puts on his superserious face. He clears his throat and says, “So, for some reason I love how you are the most annoyingly optimistic person I know. I also love how you are both a sports fanatic and a total geek and how you think that it’s okay for someone older than five to have Arsenal sheets.”

“Which it is.” 

Colin doesn’t argue but simply reaches out and places his hand over Bradley’s mouth.

“Shut up and listen. You never shut up, do you? Did you know you even talk in your sleep? Not that that surprises me.”

Since Colin’s hand is still covering his mouth Bradley raises his eyebrows as high as they go to transmit his astonishment.

“You do,” Colin confirms. “Mostly you say my name in an exasperated tone voice which frankly, I find a little offensive. You’re lucky I love you enough to overlook this one character flaw that you have.”

Bradley laughs and as Colin drops his hand onto his shoulder and laughs with him. Bradley demonstratively presses his lips together. He can totally let Colin finish his love declaration without interrupting him, even if Colin gets sidetracked by his fondness of randomly insulting Bradley. 

Colin doesn’t continue immediately, instead he stares at Bradley’s mouth in a sort of hypnotised manner. Bradley pokes his chest meaningfully and silently gestures ‘go on’.

“Let’s see,” Colin says then. “I also love how you tried to make me tea when I was sick. I drank it even though you accidentally put salt in it instead of sugar and I really hate black tea. I love how you throw yourself into everything with your whole soul and how you still haven’t met a single person you don’t like. Oh, and I love how there is not a single time during the day that I don’t want to shag you.”

“I noticed _that_ ,” Bradley points out smugly. Then he instantly covers his mouth with his own palm. 

Colin chuckles and kisses the back of his hand. He leans his forehead against Bradley’s as Bradley lowers his hand. 

“Something I really, really love is how I’m the one you call when you get lost in the woods and can’t remember your own address. And I can’t seem to do without your stupidly happy smile first thing in the morning anymore.”

Bradley reaches up to touch Colin’s cheek. Colin’s hand grips Bradley’s upper arm and his finger side under the rim of his tee’s sleeve.

“Colin,” Bradley says very quietly. 

Colin says, “So, in conclusion, I love you, Bradley. And yes, you’re a prat. And yes, I should have told you earlier.”

Bradley stares at him for a moment and waits for Daleks to appear on the lawn only to be instantly transformed into unicorns. When that doesn’t happen he does the next best thing – well, the better, the best thing full stop, really. He kisses Colin. The angle is a bit awkward and the oak’s bark is digging into Bradley’s palm as he leans against it to hold himself up by. But Colin’s lips taste and feel warm and soft and so familiar and Bradley could do this for hours and hours. If kissing was a conversation then they would be finishing each other’s sentences. As Colin’s hand finds its way back into his hair, the tenderness of that touch makes an entire fleet of Mario Kart Go-carts chase each other in Bradley’s belly.

This and exactly this.

When they break apart Colin’s breathing has changed to that lower, deliberately controlled way that means that he really wishes they were back in the privacy of their room. Bradley knows that he has a stupid drunken grin plastered on his face. He also knows that it won’t go away for a good long while and is pretty okay with all his braincells getting completely sloshed on happiness.

“It’s okay, you know,” he says. “That you fucked that up, the part about passing on this information to me. I don’t mind that my boyfriend is on the slow bus.” 

“Oh cheers,” Colin replies laughingly.

Bradley leans back and covers Colin’s hand on the lawn with his own, their fingers automatically tangling. 

“Well, yeah. Think about it, that way we can hold hands during the ride.”

Colin just _looks_ at Bradley. All the hours of close observation and his hard studying has paid off because Bradley has gotten spectacularly awesome at reading Colin. For example, without any doubt he knows that that look in Colin’s eyes right now means ‘You’re just my kind of ordinarily demented’, the too tight squeeze of his hand means ‘I’m not letting you go again, just fyi’. 

“I love you, too,” Bradley replies. It uncontrollably bursts out of him like a burp of affection. 

As per usual it makes Colin smile that smile of his, the one that makes Bradley instantly fall in love with him even more.

All things considering, the world is definitely too fantastic to risk it being accidentally nuked by an army of killer robots. Bradley therefore decides there and then to put his Terminator building plans permanently on hold. It’s a little tragic because he thinks that thanks to his observational skills and his permanent being-in-love-adoration he could’ve created the perfect Killer-Robot-Colin-Duplicate in his sleep. 

On second thought, Bradley thinks as Colin gets up and holds out his hand to pull Bradley up, he prefers his black-humoured, crisp-stealing killer-smile boyfriend over a killing machine any day. He gets accidentally set on fire, ditches morning classes in favour of blow jobs and virtual turtle shells are thrown at his head on a regular basis. All that beats world domination any day. 

Bradley is a man of simple pleasures. He slings his arm over Colin’s shoulder and declares that they are going for pudding.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the lovely Gigi


End file.
